Day Trips, a Medical Update, and a Bathroom Reveal

At the Marine Memorial Museum with early San Franciscans

It's months since I've posted!  Sorry about that.

Here are a few updates before I pretty much switch to Instagram, if you'd like to follow me there. Instagram is short and sweet, easy to use, and more personal.  I'm turning into a lazy old lady.

Some recent adventures:

1. You may have seen this photo on Instagram a couple of days ago.  I was at Alta Bates Summit Medical Center undergoing a cardiac catheterization to check my coronary arteries for blockages.  Good news: all is normal.   This stemmed from my diagnosis of atrial fibrillation last winter and a couple of earlier tests that were inconclusive.

 Worrying about this test and the two that preceded it has taken a lot of energy since January. Thanks to all the pals who listened, soothed, and encouraged.  You know who you are!

2.  A few weeks ago Jerry and I went on a bay cruise from Fisherman's Wharf.  We might have been the only English-speaking people onboard, except for the couple who sat across from us, who spoke Scottish.   Sailing under the Golden Gate Bridge was a bucket list item of mine, and I dangled a post-cruise visit to Fort Mason (read: insect habitat) to get Jerry to go.

The vistas were splendid, and I highly recommend checking it out (Red and White Fleet, $32 each for seniors). We took BART and the F Muni streetcar to Fisherman's Wharf and left the car at home.

On board

Sliding past Aquatic Park and Ghirardelli Square

The Marina and the Palace of Fine Arts

Crissy Field and the Presidio

Approaching the bridge

And...

...under!  Looking toward the Marin Headlands

Afterward, the Scottish couple was off to Chinatown (she wore a sleeveless shift on this journey; Jerry and I were in fleece), and we were off to:

Jerry's pay-off and a relaxing oasis in the city.

Butterfly hunting

3.  We've also been out to Angel Island to hike and to see what's up since the last time we were there, c. 1976.  The brief boat ride (10 minutes) departed from Tiburon.  We hiked, and then took an hour-long tram ride around the perimeter of the island and then hiked some more.  Good views from everywhere.

Leaving Tiburon

Ayala Cove, where the boat comes in

Searching roadside weeds for butterflies

Historic US Immigration Station, now open to the public

The tram that circles the island 

View from the west side of the island

 

The butterfly hunt continues

4.  Our bathroom remodel is finished!  Many thanks to my sister, who designed it, and to Geoff Semans, the contractor who put it all together.  For four months, Jerry and I  slept in my studio  to be out of the way of the construction, which got way old!  So did sharing a bathroom (spoiled!). 

 

Before

This space was converted from a master bedroom closet by the previous owners, and we'd done little to it since we bought the house in 1984.  Petite but handy and all mine.

 After

New tile floor,; more compact toilet;  new vanity, quartz countertop, mosaic splash, shower door, recessed lighting, and medicine cabinet

 

  

The small magnifying mirror has been a godsend for this blind old bat doing her eye make-up (from Amazon, of course )

And that's it!

I've also been to two quilt shows, and maybe I'll get to posting photos from those.  So much for ending the blog...

A Bleak, Bleak Day

Here's where I am today:

Sad.  

Also, outraged. I've ranted to the contractor, the tile guy, and Jerry.  They're all outraged.  The contractor referred to the devil.  The tile guy thinks it's not final, so we don't need to go to the wall--yet.  Jerry's resigned.  Every since George W. Bush invaded Iraq in the face of millions marching against it, he's given up.  Nothing the Republicans can do will surprise him.

This was supposed to be a post about whale-watching, but I've read what I wrote, and it bored me to tears.  More on that later (maybe).

Grab your hat, and let's go.

A Birthday That Didn't Make Me Teary

Birthdays usually make me teary and in a hurry to get through, but yesterday's was fine.  I liked it, and I had my fill of chocolate.  I couldn't ask for more.

I went to off to the pool with my dear friends Anne and Val, and afterward they took me out to brunch, which for me consisted of French toast, bacon, and eggs, a real treat for someone who's more or less chained herself to Whole 30. 

Then, Jerry and I went to the hardware for garden clippers, which I desperately needed because I tend to lose them in piles of garden detritus. Today the first of two pairs of expensive sandals arrive for me to choose from.

After that, I settled in my chair to hand-stitch a label on a quilt for Pantry Kate, whose husband is in Berkeley for a few weeks and can take the quilt back to England for her.  When I finished, I realized I'd sewn it on the wrong corner of the back, top instead of bottom, but I said to hell with it, and it will stay where it is (Kate, if you're reading this, the quilt goes the other way round.)

Then dinner at Rivoli on Solano Avenue, where they gave us the best table in the house, in the far corner near the window, with a view of the garden. The food was delicious: portabello mushroom fritters and arugula (shared), sea bass (me), Dungeness crab risotto (Jerry), plus dessert (hot fudge sundae for me). The waiter also presented me with a ginger snap on a plate with a candle, and his boss sent over two complimentary glasses of dessert wine.  No singing.

Afterward, we drove out to the far reaches of El Cerrito to gaze at the little house we moved into in 1976 ($44,000), now worth $500,000, and discussed how much better life is now, even though we're old and decrepit and pretty much irrelevant except to people who love us, which is pretty good.

And that was it.  Home to the House of Bathroom Remodeling, where I inspected the day's progress in the twilight:

The shower now has a floor

One of my favorite gifts, from my friend Claudia M.  I've been admiring these yard signs all over town and wanted one:

Thanks for all cards, Facebook wishes, and e-mail greetings!

Updates: Another Remodel, Blue Apron Giveaway, Medical Developments

When you haven't posted in six weeks, it's like losing touch with a friend for a year and then scheduling a catch-up lunch. What do you leave out, what's even remotely interesting to hear about?

Item 1:   We're in the middle of another bathroom remodel, and this one's a doozy:  We've had to move out of our bedroom  and into my studio, which has meant drastically curtailing quilt projects. 

Here's the Before of the bathroom, which opens right smack off our bedroom, which is why we decamped to my studio.

Formerly a closet, the former owners converted it, c. 1960.  We added a counter in 1990.

I haven't used this shower since since we remodeled the other bathroom in 2014 

Now we have a barn-like space:

 Gutted.  I can tell where the medicine cabinet's going to go, anyway.

The master bedroom looks like this:

The plastic wall, which is hiding...

...lots of fabric, odd items of furniture, and who knows what

My studio in normal times:

My studio now: 

It's like living on a ship--very, very compact.  (The bed is brand-new.  Why not add researching, trying out, and buying a new mattress to the remodel mix?) 

This project is supposed to be finished in early May.

* * * * *

Item 2:  Some of you know that Jerry's son, David, was diagnosed with a rare sinus cancer last year.  After the most grueling treatment you can imagine--simultaneous chemotherapy and radiation--he needed to have surgery to remove the last of it.  That happened last Monday, and his doctors are confident of a happy outcome.  This is something Jerry and I have been worrying about since last spring.  David and his devoted wife, Michele, have pulled through what has been a very difficult time.

With David and Michele

Much more minor:  I'm still struggling with atrial fibrillation, despite meds.  In February, I had a stress echocardiogram that revealed a sluggish area of my heart wall, which could mean that I've had a silent heart attack.  The doctor wants to "suss it out," so next month I'm going to have a nuclear stress test that will show the blood flow in my heart.  My doctor told me last week that he thinks it's not coronary artery disease, which bucked me up.  Somewhat.

Getting old is the pits!  I've got friends who are sick, one with ovarian cancer (doing well post-surgery) and one with lung cancer (a very effective chemo pill that's working well). Yet another has been diagnosed with congestive heart disease.   Another friend has roaring in one ear and was just checked out for a blocked carotid artery: negative.

Hell's bells.  How on earth did all this happen?

Here's my strategy:

Also the title of a very moving film I saw recently (Netflix)

Some days it works.

  * * * * *

Item 3:  Jerry and I are trying Blue Apron, the meal delivery service, and I have some free meals to give away (everyone who signs up gets to do this).

 FedEx-ed to our door

The fixings for three dinners arrive at our house every other Wednesday, beautifully and frigidly packed in sturdy cardboard, ice, insulating foil, and plastic covers, all very sanitary and fresh.  Well-organized recipes accompany this, and after working our way through them,  we two non-cooks have been surprised by very tasty meals we've produced.

Vegetarian pizza made with real live pizza dough (who knew?  We usually use Boboli.)

Chicken something-or-other, delicious

The down side:  You still have to cook, which involves chopping, reading instructions, and dirtying pans.  Every other week is all we can handle; deliveries once a week make the whole undertaking seem like a chore, and I get resentful ("What?  Another damned box?!").

The up side: It's been fun working together to see what we're going to come up with.    We're paying $20/meal, or $60 every other week based on our delivery plan.  Our grocery bill has gone down.  Occasionally, there are leftovers for lunch. 

I have five free meals to award to friends who might like to give it a go.  Let me know and I'll give Blue Apron your e-mail address, and they'll contact you with the particulars. 

The minimum you can order is for two people so I don't recommend this for people who live alone because it seems like too much food.  But y ou could always freeze the meat/fish/poultry and cook the meal later. 

Let me know.

What the Doctor Ordered

These days, I get up in the morning, make a big cup of black tea, and start reading Google News on my phone to find out what fresh hell Trump has stirred up.

Then I switch to the Washington Post, The New York Times, and sometimes The Guardian.  By breakfast, I am wired and outraged.    

I know I should stop.  But as my friend Debbie says, "I keep thinking I will take a day off, but then I don't because I'm scared to not know."

Me, too.  I'm scared not to know.   Take your eye off Trump for half a day and God knows what he'll do next.

Well! This morning I had an appointment with one of my doctors, a woman in her sixties who lives in Berkeley, so you can imagine the conversation.   She's incensed by Trump and just about ordered me (is it in my chart?) to join  Indivisible , an organization founded by Congressional ex-staffers who suggest ways to make your voice heard most effectively.  Apparently, you're assigned a pro-democracy, anti-Trump task  to do every single day. 

Among other things, the doctor wrote to Dianne Feinstein and told DiFi that she'd never vote for her again if  she didn't oppose the Cabinet nominees.  And what happened?  DiFi started opposing the nominees!  The doctor's very bucked up.

Then she wrote to Uber and told them she was quitting because their top executive met with Trump.  Haven't heard back on that one.

And the demise of the Affordable Care Act?  She waved that off.  Patients are being overcharged and insurance companies and hospitals are making millions.  She assured me that doctors were not.  We need single payer health insurance, and that's it.  She was very firm about that.

I came straight home and wrote to Dianne Feinstein and Kamala Harris. 

It's a start.

 Does he know this is for real?

* * * * *

I'm in one of those phases where I feel like I've physically aged several years overnight.  I squint at myself in the mirror and wonder what the hell's happened.  Crepey skin, more chin hairs, and a shocking web of wrinkles under my eyes.

 My ineffectual arsenal

More cream, more plucking, more exfoliating more, more, and more, and not much difference.    Maybe I should start an organization called "Invisible," because that's what women in their sixties are,  unless they yell loudly,  which is not a bad idea (see above).

My mental state has also taken a hit, and not just by Trump.  Last week I learned that a friend has a serious illness, another friend has died, and someone else has had a skirmish with a cancer caught at an early stage.  You reach an age where death no longer surprises, but it's still shocking.  

The other night, Jerry and I watched an eccentric movie called "Still Life," about a nerdy, fortyish Englishman who's in charge of tracking down relatives of people who are found dead.  He's not very successful, and sometimes he's the only person at the funeral, for which he writes a eulogy that a minister reads.  In the end, you realize that the message is kindness, and we are in so much need of it.  It's classified as "drama/comedy," but I'd call it black humor (Amazon Prime).

* * * * *

We're taking on another bathroom remodel, due to leaks, mold, inconvenience, and, yes, a "dated" look.

For this, we're going to have to move out of our bedroom and into my studio,  which means I'll have to find another place to quilt.  Afterward, I'll have a sleek new bathroom in a former closet (converted by the last owners).

 Where will it all go?  Haven't dealt with that yet.

* * * * *

This rose bush will not give out!  I keep thinking I've cut the last bloom, and it produces another.  A rose in the winter of our discontent, etc.